


StarfXcker

by seunggillee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 1970s, Ages Are Changed, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Groupies, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slow Burn, Smoking, Smut, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seunggillee/pseuds/seunggillee
Summary: 1976. Los Angeles. Otabek is a broken rock God and Yuri is the perfect band-aid.





	1. o n e

**Author's Note:**

> A preview of sorts for an Otayuri fic (with JJSeung) set in the 1970's, inspired by teenage groupies and general shenanigans. Comment/kudos if you're interested in reading more, if not, I might drop it. Just let me know!
> 
> Alternate title is Band-Aid, let me know what you prefer.

Sweaty palms grip the side of a grimy bathroom sink, perfectly painted lips pressed together in a desperate kiss. Slim fingers move up, pressing against a thin chest and he pulls away breathlessly, giving a small smile as he steps back and slaps away a strand of saliva that connects two mouths. "Perfect." He says, reaching forward to tuck a piece of blonde hair behind the other's ear. "You're thinking too much. You're better at it than you give yourself credit for." He moves next to him, staring at his own reflection in the mirror for a moment before giving a nod.

"They're supposed to be on any minute, right?" Yuri asks, glancing over at the Korean boy next to him. 

"Yep. And I still haven't gotten the bubblegum off my knees." He turns to him, unamused. "I forgot how gross these bathroom floors get. Like it matters though. I'll just scrub at them later. I thought alcohol might get it off, but they're even stickier than before." Sighing, he makes his way toward the door.

Yuri can't help but chuckle softly, shuffling after him. "You'll think twice next time before giving a blowjob in a place like this, huh?"

Seung Gil turns back to him, rolling his heavily-lined eyes. "Shut up. You're right, but still. Remember our agreement..." he says, a hand on the doorknob. "No one touches the drummer but me. They're not entirely too popular yet, but I think you'll dig them." With that, he pushes the door open and they step out between sweaty, grinding bodies, the sound of heavy guitar and slurred voices filling their ears immediately. Yuri grabs a hold of the tattered jacket Seung Gil is wearing, large eyes blinking and trying to adjust to the dim lighting. Seung Gil elbows his way through, and Yuri remains as close as possible before they arrive at the front of the stage, where two girls are standing, drunkenly giggling about something.

"Mila." Seung Gil reaches over, playfully tugging a strand of red hair. She turns, giving a wide, intoxicated smile before throwing her arms around the Korean boy, pressing her lips sloppily against his cheek.

"I should have known you would be here." Mila coos, rubbing away the lipstick stain she left on his face. "We were just backstage. And guess who asked about you?"

He presses his lips together, the closest thing to a smile Yuri's ever seen from him. "Hm, what a hard question." He says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It couldn't possibly be Christophe, whom I've slept with every show they've played in the area, could it?" He leans against the stage, tilting his head. "Ah, Sara's here too. I talked to your brother earlier today as we were arriving. So I take it he's not staying? He seemed to hit it off with Emil last time..." He winks, dodging her fist as she tries to playfully punch his shoulder.

"Who's this?" Mila cuts in, glancing at Yuri, who is still clutching the tail of Seung Gil's jacket.

The blonde looks up, his eyes meeting hers and allowing himself to really look at her. She's familiar. He's seen her walking down the hallways at school in her avant-garde outfits with Seung Gil and Sara at her sides, the queen of the groupie scene. He assumed Seung Gil was in some sort of polyamorous relationship with the two of them at first, until it was made shockingly clear to him that Seung Gil has absolutely no interest in women. "My name is Yuri Plisetsky. Transferred here this semester." He yells over the loud music, and Mila gives a nod, holding out a perfectly manicured hand for him to shake.

"I like your hair." Sara says cheerfully, suddenly reaching forward and carding her fingers through the light strands _without permission_. It takes all he has in him not to slap her hand away, and before he can tell her to _back the fuck off_ , there's a familiar pop from the speakers. He turns, and he notices four men taking their places. He can't see them too clearly yet, but he can make out the long, silver hair and tall figure of the lead singer.

"That's Viktor?" Yuri asks, leaning against Seung Gil.

"Mhm, but don't waste your time on him. He's going steady with their manager, at least it seems like it." The lights come up and he notices the other's dark eyes immediately gravitate towards one man in particular. The two exchange a nod and a look Yuri can't understand before the room fills with music. He turns his attention to Viktor as he belts out the first few lyrics, to a guitarist with messy, sandy colored locks and unkempt facial hair and to...

Long, nimble fingers moving effortlessly across the strings of a bass guitar. Toned, tattooed arms. A tense, sharp jawline. Eyes that seem to make every other bright, flashing, obnoxiously glittery object in the club painfully dull in comparison. He leans against the stage, the low sound and the vibrations of the instrument shooting up his legs and into his chest. "That one." He says quietly to himself, inaudible over the provocative tones of Viktor's voice. Their eyes meet and Yuri holds his gaze, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully as he lets those brown eyes burn holes into him. He feels a familiar tightness in the leather pants Seung Gil let him borrow and his breath catches, hands gripping the edge of the platform that stranger is standing on. The corners of the bassist's lips curve upwards into a knowing smile. 

Seung Gil pushes himself away from the stage, on a mission to find someone to buy him a drink. He notices Yuri, eyes wide and trained on the new bassist. He knows that look.

_What a rookie mistake._

He laughs to himself, but he doesn't smile as he moves past the crowd, hands buried deep in his pockets. 

***

Security doesn't hesitate to let the four teenagers past the door. From what Yuri has seen, Seung Gil, Mila, and Sara are basically royalty here in these seedy rock clubs. They hurriedly walk down the hallways, the clicking of Mila and Sara's platform shoes echoing. The staff knows them by name, and the moment they step into a large dressing room, they're all enthusiastically greeted. Christophe, the drummer, stands immediately, and Seung Gil throws himself into his arms, giving him with a sloppy, wet kiss. 

"I missed you, Chinadoll." He purrs against the Korean's lips, and Seung Gil pulls back.

"I'm  _ Korean _ , Chris. I tell you every time." He grunts, thick eyebrows furrowing.

"Same difference." The band member shrugs, tugging eagerly at Seung Gil's t-shirt. Yuri can tell the comment bothers him, but he's not about to interfere. Seung Gil is no stranger to it, and it hasn't stopped him from lowering his hands to fumble with the zipper of Christophe's pants. 

Yuri glances around the room, his heart sinking when his eyes can't locate the only man up there who _mattered_. He wraps his arms around himself and exhales, deciding to take a look around while Seung Gil is pinned against that torn-up sofa by Christophe. Yuri manages to slip out the door again, back into the hallway that seems deserted now. A clock distantly ticks, reading 2:16 am. He was supposed to be home hours ago. 

Soundlessly he wanders down the part of the building he hasn't explored yet, curious teal eyes wandering. He doesn't make it far before a hand grips the collar of his shirt from behind, tugging him back. He turns, he stops, and he recognizes the angular face of the closest thing he's ever seen to perfection.

After slow seconds crawl by, the other's lips part and an accented voice pierces the silence. 

"You."

 

 


	2. t w o

Yuri's lips hang open as he struggles to formulate a response. The silence is so thick it could be cut by a knife, and before Yuri can even stammer out a single syllable, the musician in front of him makes a point to speak, understanding that just tugging someone back might not be the most proper of greetings. "My name is Otabek. And what's yours?"

Inhaling sharply, he shifts his weight between his feet. "I'm Yuri." He mumbles, and Otabek gives a small nod of approval. "I... you were really good."

"Thanks. Anyway,  _ Yuri _ , I hate hanging around here after shows. You don't seem like you're having the best time either, or are you just lost?"

"I'm not lost. I'm just kind of wandering around. My friend is hooking up with Christophe." He explains, blinking and letting his eyes fixate on those angular features. "Honestly I was just looking for something to do."

Otabek lets out a light chuckle. "Let me guess, Korean kid. Doesn't smile. Perpetually high off quaaludes. Spreads his legs for anything that moves. Is that the one?" He folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall. "Knowing him, he won't be done for a while. Chris can get at least four good rounds out of him. It'll be at least another two hours.”

His eyes flicker back to the clock. Another two hours? 

Otabek just shrugs, grabbing Yuri's wrist and tugging the other towards the door. His grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt. He shuffles along with him eagerly, and they find themselves outside. In the darkness, an arm wraps around him and his back presses against the side of the nightclub. Otabek's body brushes against against his and he looks up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The alleyway is dark save for a few fluorescent lights that illuminate the bassist's face just enough. There's another silence, but this is far more comfortable. 

He lifts a hand to cup his cheek. Otabek knows what the other is here for. He's just like Seung Gil, like Mila, like Sara-- only here for a quick and dirty one-night stand and a line of coke. And yet, Otabek gets the feeling he isn't. He's slept with groupies, they mean nothing to him just as he means nothing to them. Musicians and groupies are mere status symbols for each other. The more desperate, whiny, submissive idiots pine for you, the more desirable and talented you seem. And sleeping with rockstars gives the common whore the idea that they're worth someone's time.

Gently he pinches the smooth skin of Yuri's cheek before letting go. He's not going to fuck him, not yet. What's the point? After it's all said and done, Yuri has no use for him anymore and vice-versa.

Otabek can't help but wonder why he's thinking this way. He's only been aware of the other's existence for the past hour. Why is he so nervous that after sex, the other would just up and leave? Why would he care?

Maybe it's because while he was playing, he noticed that Yuri's eyes never left him. He's never been gazed at with so much intensity and longing. And maybe it's because of that look in his eyes, that sense of wonder and innocence not common in the broken people who usually hang around those clubs.

"There isn't really anything to do here, not for you, anyway." He says after a while. "I'm not gonna sleep with you, if that's what you were expecting. You’re too young for me. Never understood the appeal of doing it with minors." He replies coolly before reaching into his pockets and tugging out a pack of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he glances at Yuri. It's a blatant lie, but he would rather blame it on age rather than the fact that he's enthralled by this otherworldly, yet painfully naive-looking boy and feels the need to preserve that innocence. Otabek doesn’t come off as nurturing, and he would like to keep it that way.

Yuri tilts his head. "Too young." He repeats, surprised. Seung Gil convinced him that age was never an issue, that rock stars are so bored that they'll do anything. Yuri feels disappointed, but at the same time, oddly relieved. Probably because he doesn't know how he would manage to squeeze into these leather pants again should Otabek pull them off. "So... what are we doing then?”

"Nothing." Otabek shrugs. "I just wanted to go somewhere quiet. So... mind telling me how you got mixed up with Seung Gil and that crowd?"

Yuri blinks, his head rolling to the side. "I walked in on Seung Gil giving head to one of the running backs on our school's football team, and the guy has a girlfriend, so Seung Gil is bribing me with concerts and alcohol to keep it a secret."

The other laughs. his eyes curving into crescents. "Oh really?" Otabek chirps, leaning against his motorcycle and lifting the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag. "So, you didn't ask him to bring you here? You just kind of got dragged to our show by your friend cause he's afraid of what you might say? Thanks for reminding me why I don't miss high school and all the petty drama." He blows out a long trail of smoke. "He brought you here because you're pretty, you know."

The comment catches the Russian boy off guard and he looks up at him, confused. "Excuse me?"

"He wouldn't have brought you to our show if he didn't think we would like you. But here's the thing, Yuri. You don't want their lifestyle, trust me. All of you guys are in such a hurry to grow up. They may seem so glamorous and mature, but they’re a bunch of damaged burnouts. You only get one childhood, you know."

"I'm not a child." Yuri says hastily, eyebrows furrowing. "And I don't appreciate you thinking of me as one.”

Otabek takes a step closer after placing the cigarette between his teeth and Yuri flinches as strong fingers catch one of his wrists. "Is this your act of rebellion against mommy and daddy? If you're such an adult, Yuri, why don't you prove it?"

The younger freezes, his expression unreadable, and Otabek can't help but smile softly to himself. This kid is stubborn, yes. He knows that even if he tells Yuri to fuck right off, to never show that darling, pixie-like face on the sunset strip again, he'll still see him night after night, desperately hanging around the front of the stage, his breath reeking of whiskey. And so Otabek makes a decision. If Yuri wants to live this life, if he wants to keep wasting his time, Otabek will let him.

But he's not taking his eye off this beauty for even a second. Nothing will happen to him, not on his watch.

"Well, I'm sure it's past your bedtime. And I'm sure you have school tomorrow. Why don't I take you home? Are you scared of motorcycles?"

"I’m not scared of anything.” The blonde grunts defensively.

The answer seems to satisfy Otabek, who tugs him toward his bike. He picks up a helmet and holds it out to him. "You use it." His tone is demanding, and yet soft. "Might mess up that pretty blonde hair of yours but hey, with the way you're dressed, I assume you had every intention of having a little fun. After all, you're with the army of baby-sluts."

Yuri takes the helmet, frowning. "Baby-sluts, huh?" He tugs the helmet on, joining Otabek on the motorcycle. "That's an endearing nickname, if I do say so myself."

"You're a bit of a smart-ass, aren't you?" A smirk twitches the corner of his lips as Yuri's arms wind around his torso. "Be careful, Yuri. A tongue that sharp could get you into quite a bit of trouble. Now, tell me where you live."

He revs the engine before they propel forward and his grip on Otabek's waist tightens as they speed out onto the street and down it, past flashing lights and lonely people struggling to get the world to make sense, past businessmen cheating on their wives, past secret drug deals, past restaurants and whorehouses and everything in between. It goes quickly, and yet painfully slow, and when the ride is over he's breathless though all he had to do was sit, be quiet, and keep his thin chest pressed against a stranger's spine.

Otabek gets off first, holding a hand out for Yuri. He doesn't take it and slides off without his help, tugging off the helmet and setting it on the seat. The Russian boy lets himself look around, biting his lip nervously upon seeing a light still on inside. He expected maybe to end up at some trashy apartment and spend the night on the couch after some half-assed sex, not in front of his grandfather’s house at this hour.

The other man says nothing, dark eyes trained on how stray strands of light hair flutter across pale skin. Yuri's cheeks turn a soft shade of pink when he catches Otabek looking at him, and not because he's flattered. In fact, he's humiliated, upset by the way the other mocked him earlier. Just as Otabek has, Yuri reaches his own conclusion. If Otabek thinks he's such a child, he'll prove him dead wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, but I promise things will start picking up!


	3. t h r e e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: drug use, masturbation.

"Ow!" Yuri gasps as rough fingers grip his ponytail, roughly tugging his head back. His eyes meet another pair of dark ones. "Seung Gil, what the fuck--"

"You dirty little skank!" Seung Gil scoffs. "Leaving me there last night! I waited up for like an hour before Viktor said he saw you leave!" The Korean boy huffs before sitting next to him, cradling his chin in his hand. His neck is covered in dark purple hickeys that he obviously didn't bother to cover up this morning. "The buses stopped running. I got a ride home so it was no big deal, but damn. I hope Otabek's cock was worth it." He side-eyes him, obviously expecting some sort of answer, a passionate, riveting description of Yuri's misadventures.

Yuri only shakes his head. "We didn't do anything." 

" _We didn't do anything._ " Seung Gil teases in a high-pitched voice. "Don't lie. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know." 

Sighing, Yuri slumps in his seat. "I'm being honest, asshole. He just mocked me for being too young then brought me home. Didn't even try to touch me or anything. It was totally a waste of time." 

"Maybe if you had stuck around, you could have messed around with Chris and me." He shrugs, raising an eyebrow. "Your loss. Honestly, Otabek seems boring. Mila's been trying to sleep with him for a while. You should have seen her face when she heard you left with him. She's probably going to kill you later, by the way." He leans back, placing his feet on the table. "I'll try to tell her but hey, she might get to you first. I'll be praying for you, Yuri Plisetsky." 

"When's their next show?" Yuri turns to him, a glint of determination in his eyes that causes Seung Gil to narrow his eyes suspiciously. 

"Why?" 

Clearing his throat, Yuri shrugs. "I need a shot at redemption, and I want your help. You can get anyone you want, and... I..." He takes a deep breath, biting his lip and turning from Seung Gil. "I want you to teach me how."

For a minute, Seung Gil is silent. "You know, just cause Otabek is boring doesn't mean you're not enough. Georgi Popovich is performing later this week. You're his type. Don't put all your eggs in one basket, damn." 

"I don't care. I want him." Yuri mutters.

"Well, let's debrief." Seung Gil lets out an exasperated sigh. "What does he have that no one else does? You saw him play once. He's obviously kind of a douche and he isn't interested. No biggie. You're not gonna be everyone's cup of tea, but you're gonna be someone's brand of heroin at some point. Cheer up." 

A tan-skinned hand runs through Seung Gil's hair and the two look up, a muscular young man in a crimson varsity jacket strolling past them casually, as if it had been a mistake. Yuri notices the way Seung Gil's eyes widen just slightly before he turns back to Yuri, forcing the usual deadpan expression back onto his face. "What are you doing tonight?" Yuri asks, chewing his lower lip.

Seung Gil glances over at the football player who just walked by for a fraction of a second before shrugging his shoulders. "I... have plans with someone." He says, and Yuri can't help but notice how the athlete's blue eyes flicker over to them before a raven-haired girl plops down next to him and his arm slides around her waist. If Seung Gil's trying to be subtle, it isn't working too well, as he visibly frowns at the gesture. "I mean, maybe you could come with us. I'll talk to him. But you might not have much fun."

"What makes you say that?" Yuri argues, narrowing his eyes.

"Because we're fucking and getting high, dammit. Happy?" Seung Gil exhales, and it's the first time Yuri's seen him blush. He gives Seung Gil a knowing smile and the other just scoffs, socking his arm hard enough to hurt, but not enough to seriously injure him. 

***

The car is parked next to the Hollywood sign, and Seung Gil was right, this sucks. Yuri is wishing he hadn't tagged along. At least he's considerably high, but it doesn't change the fact that his best friend and that football player (whose name is fucking JJ, the douchiest name on the planet) are in the back of JJ's father's truck, bodies writhing, and he can hear their moans over the sound of the radio. "Yuri..." Seung Gil calls breathlessly. "Turn it up. This is my favorite Bowie song. You can roll another joint if you're bored." 

"With pleasure." He grunts, turning the volume up until he can't hear anything and he does as he says. It's the most miserable excuse for a joint he's ever seen, but weed is weed and he takes it between his teeth. He grabs Seung Gil's lighter, flicking it a few times before holding the flame up and taking a long, slow drag. Smoke curls from rosy lips as he slumps against the seat. 

_But the film is a saddening bore, 'cause I've wrote it ten times or more, it's about to be writ again..._

He glances back, and he can see Seung Gil's kiss-swollen lips mouthing the lyrics, his eyes closed as JJ moves against him slowly. Rolling his eyes, he takes another hit before sticking his hand out the window. "Here." He says, and JJ takes it quickly. The song comes to a close and suddenly his ears pick up a familiar bass riff. "Seung." 

"What?" The other's voice is slightly strained, trembling just enough to be noticeable. 

"That band we saw yesterday. They're on the radio." 

"Cool, they're getting airtime finally. You want your joint back?" 

Yuri reaches back, taking it and biting his lip as he hears Viktor's voice. And suddenly, his chest tightens. He remembers the way Otabek stared at him during this song specifically, the way his fingers plucked the strings and sweat glistened on his jawline. The two are still occupied, and suddenly Yuri finds himself desperately fumbling for the zipper of his pants. Warm fingers dip into the waistband of his underwear, sliding over his hardening length and down to the tip. Carefully he presses his fingertips against it and his breath catches in his throat. Keeping himself focused on the constant thumping of the bass, he imagines Otabek there in front of him, warm, nimble digits pressing against a pulsing vein before curling around him and...

Giving himself a few slow pumps, Yuri bites down hard on his lip. It's not like the two back there could hear him. It's more for his own peace of mind. He places the stick between his lips again, breathing in and holding the smoke there for a few slow seconds before dropping what's left of the joint out the window. His thighs tremble as he works his hand just the way he likes it and his spine arches as he decides to allow himself one soft mewl of pleasure. He just.. wants him so badly.

And _fuck_ , he won't stop until he has him. 

Maybe it's obsessive, maybe it's weird. But since when should he be ashamed of what sets his soul on fire? Why should he be embarrassed of wanting to be wanted? After all, he's always been the afterthought. Mila and Sara and the boy in the back of the truck have something Yuri can only dream of, and he wants it too. He wants to be so desirable the most influential men melt into mere puddles at his feet.

He will be. 

Panting, he pulls his hand from his underwear, staring at this sticky palm as he catches his breath. He glances outside and notices Seung Gil and JJ wandering towards the car doors. JJ has an arm around the smaller man's waist, and their clothes are so poorly pulled on they might as well not be wearing any at all. After sharing a sloppy kiss, Seung Gil crawls into the passenger side. 

"I don't think I've ever been this high." He mumbles. "We're going to need to drive with the windows open to air this thing out." He leans on JJ as he starts the car, smiling tiredly up at him. 

"Hey, uh..." JJ glances back at Yuri, his eyes glazed over. "Thanks for not telling anyone." 

"No problem." He shrugs. "Who would I tell?"

There's a nervous expression on JJ's face as he responds. "My girlfriend. Or my parents." 

They leave it at that. There's no reason to say anything more on that issue. Yuri wouldn't go so far as to tell anyone. He knows how hard it is, but most of all... he needs Seung Gil to teach him how to do whatever it is he does to effortlessly get the love Yuri craves so deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you can name what Bowie song is referenced. <3


	4. f o u r

He pushes the door open quietly, biting his lip upon seeing his grandfather still awake, his face illuminated by the glow of the television. Slowly Yuri tiptoes behind him, but the man turns. "You're home late again, Yurachka." He murmurs in his thickly accented voice, looking back at his grandson. "...What are you wearing?" Upon seeing his grandson standing there in a pair of ripped jeans and a top that reveals both of his pale shoulders, the man raises an eyebrow.

"Clothes?" Yuri retorts, blinking and looking down at himself.

"Your pants are ripped, do you need me to buy you some new ones? We can go to town this weekend. We can even get ice cream..."

Yuri shakes his head, smiling softly. "I don't need new pants, dedushka. They're supposed to look like this. The rips are intentional." He walks over, flopping down on the couch next to him. His grandfather reaches over, ruffling his hair gently.

"You're quite the individual. You've always had your own sense of style. Your mother was the same way." He says, carding his fingers through the blond strands. Yuri looks up at him, obviously unhappy he brought her up. "I learned to stop asking after a while. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no stopping her. Couldn't say anything to change her mind."

"Obviously." Yuri mumbles, closing his eyes.

"You're the same way, sometimes."

His eyes fly open yet again and he looks up at him, shoulders tensing. "I'm nothing like her." He says shortly. "And I never will be."

Silence hangs between the two of them for a moment before a sad smile tugs the corner of his grandfather's lips. "I know you're not. You may have her individuality, but you're not selfish." He says, pressing a kiss to his grandson's forehead. Talking about her is a sensitive topic, difficult for the both of them. But sometimes, he catches glimpses of her and he can't help but acknowledge them. They both miss her, even though they shouldn't, And sometimes, when they're alone with their thoughts and things aren't making sense... they wonder if she misses them too.

***

"Hey, where are you going?" Seung Gil slurs, looking up at Yuri and tilting his head as he runs his fingers through Georgi Popovich's heavily gelled hair. "He wants the both of us at once, he said so."

"I know, I heard him." Yuri mumbles. "I... I gotta throw up. I'll be back."

The Korean hums in response, turning back to the singer and pressing their lips together again. "Don't take too long. He's doing Sara and Mila next... you're gonna miss it." His hands move around Georgi's neck and he shifts to get comfortable in his lap. Yuri pushes the door open, blinking to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness of the lights in the hallway. Cursing softly, he slams his eyes shut and keeps a hand on the wall, moving forward slowly until he finds a bathroom. He's on his knees in a stall the second he pushes past a few other groupies taking bumps of coke off the floor.

He chokes, pale hands gripping the toilet seat as the vodka from earlier spills from his lips. He's not sure why he's puking his guts up while Seung Gil drank just as much (if not more) and is completely fine. It's not fair that Yuri is too trashed to even keep it all down while Seung Gil just gets flushed cheeks that somehow make him look even more otherworldly. Maybe that's how he manages to get anyone he wants.

Yuri groans softly once everyone in the bathroom leaves and he slumps down, resting his cheek against the toilet. He's too drunk to care at this point. Every time he feels like he's starting to get better, another wave of nausea comes back. Again, he dry-heaves, his eyes fluttering closed. A pair of gentle hands move through his hair, pulling it back. Yuriy doesn't bother to turn around, still retching and whimpering. He leans back once it's all over, his breathing heavy and his body trembling. The stranger sighs, moving their hand through his hair again.

"I told you not to show your damn face around the strip again." He recognizes that voice immediately.

"You can't tell me what to do." Yuri responds with an airy chuckle, turning to look at Otabek. The other doesn't look angry, but concerned.

"Yes I can." He says, lightly hitting Yuriy's arm. "Let's get you home. It's late."

The younger boy shakes his head, suddenly trying to pull himself out of the musician's arms. "No, I'm not going home. I have to get back. I probably missed it..." The blonde looks around the bathroom, remembering what Seung Gil said.

"Missed what?" Otabek sighs, keeping Yuri in his arms. He's not letting him go, not after what he just saw. The other is in no shape to do anything other than go to sleep. "What is there to do? Nothing good ever happens around this time."

"Seung Gil and I are supposed to be fucking Georgi." Yuri dismissively waves a hand at him, attempting to crawl away, but he's tugged right back.

 _Now_ Otabek looks angry. "Nope. Sorry. Your first time isn't going to be a threesome. Especially not with those two." He snaps. "Not with Georgi." For a while, Yuri is unable to even respond to that. He's taken aback by the way the other yelled at him, and confused as to how Otabek was able to guess that he's not nearly as experienced as he's pretending to be.

"I'm not a virgin." He slurs, shaking his head assertively. "You don't know me."

"Yes you are. I can tell. You're too desperate. Raise your standards. Your other pals were like that too, hanging off anyone they could get their hands on. They used to basically beg. Now do you see Mila and Sara approaching anyone? Cause I don't. People are drawn to them because they don't look at men like they're bitches in heat, like you are." Otabek stands abruptly, tugging Yuri with him. "Come on, we're going home. You're gonna sleep this off. I would love to give you a list of hangover cures, but you're far too fucked up to even remember anything I tell you." Yuri notices the way the other's voice softens, but he doesn't mention it. Otabek tugs him through the door and he stumbles along, pushing tangled blonde strands out of his eyes.

For a while, Otabek is silent. Yuri wants to say something, to tell him he's wrong, but he can't figure out exactly what to say. However, this doesn't stop his drunk self from saying it anyway. "Why the hell do you care who I sleep with?"

The other stops walking and Yuri bumps into him. He lets out another giggle before he stops suddenly, noticing the serious expression on his face.

"Why don't you just do as I say and shut up for once, Yuri? Do you talk back to your mother and father like this?"

That strikes a nerve and Yuri rips his hand from Otabek's grip. "Don't." He snaps, the smile falling from his face instantly. He wishes he could tell him, but right now it's impossible to find those words. If he tells him he has no parents, it just puts him in a more vulnerable position, paints him as an even weaker person than Otabek already makes him out to be. "I don't want to go home."

They stand there in silence yet again, and it almost feels like time has completely stopped as they both try to figure out something, anything to say to each other.

"Just come with me. We don't have to go home. Just somewhere safe." Otabek offers quietly after what feels like an eternity.

Yuri looks back at the building, bringing his lower lip between his teeth and chewing it nervously. He's unsure of how he's going to explain this to Seung Gil. It would be the second time he's left him hanging. He wonders why Otabek is so adamant about taking him home.

"Okay." He whispers finally. "But let me tell Seung. I don't want to leave him again." He turns, and much to his surprise, Otabek doesn't follow him.

He finds Seung Gil on the floor of the dressing room in nothing but a pair of underwear, obviously strung out with a cigarette perched between two fingers as he stares blankly at the ceiling. Their eyes meet and the other's eyebrows furrow. "You missed it." He mumbles, his voice soft. He speaks slowly, pushing his sweaty black hair out of his eyes. "Or did you just chicken out?"

Yuri doesn't answer. He had originally left to puke, but maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't go through with it. "I... called a cab. I'm going to head home, I'm sick." He mutters.

Seung Gil turns his attention back to the ceiling once again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before shrugging. "You just have to do it, you know. Like ripping off a band aid. Quick and easy. Only hurts for a little bit."

He wanders over to him, placing a hand on his high friend's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Seung Gil." He says, and the Korean gives a weak nod in response. Yuri smiles tiredly at him before he makes his way back to the man still waiting patiently for him.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! Sorry I took so long. I missed you guys. This was a bit of a filler chapter, but I know where I want this to go <3 Comments are appreciated!


	5. f i v e

"Oh, you're still here." Sara blinks upon noticing Seung Gil still on the carpet. "Thought you would have left by now." 

"And let you drunk bitches walk home alone? You may bug the shit out of me, but I wasn't going to let that happen." He glances up at her, sighing. "Plus, I'm too fucked up to move." 

Sara rolls her eyes, plopping down next to him. "As per usual. When _aren't_ you high off your ass?"

"Good question. Where's Mila?" He eyes the door, surprised the redhead hasn't made an appearance yet. Knowing her, though, she's probably either hugging the toilet or going for round two with Georgi. 

The Italian sighs, moving to lay next to him on the carpet. "She'll be here in a second, at least, that's what she said. I'm sleeping at her house tonight so I'm not leaving until she... finishes up." She glances over at him, noticing the way Seung Gil's eyebrow arches. For being so cold, Sara knows he's quite intuitive and he knows exactly what's on her mind, even if she's never had to say anything to him about it. "If you're thinking about making a smug comment, Seung, don't. Not in the mood. Where's Yuri?"

"He said he was sick and called a cab. Or maybe," He looks up as Mila steps out to join them. "Maybe he decided to run off with Otabek again. Heard he's in the area, Mila. Guess you missed your chance again."

If looks could kill, Seung Gil would have died right then and there with how Mila glares at him. "I didn't hear anything about them being here. And Yuri _did_ look sick, so he probably _did_ go home. Otabek isn't interested in getting with any of us, he's said so many times, and if that changed, I doubt he would go for someone like Yuri. So if you could stop being a fucking prick for once in your god damn life, that would be ideal." 

"Oh, geez. Did I touch a nerve?" He taunts. "I forgot how sensitive you are to rejection. You might want to confront Yuri about it, if it upsets you so so much. I doubt he's taking any hot cocks to the throat with how he left earlier, if that's any consolation. But... maybe Otabek likes the innocent type. Just a theory. Too bad that's not you."

Sara abruptly stands, taking Mila's hand once she notices how the other girl tenses. She's always been closer with Mila than he has, and while Seung Gil is oblivious to how hurtful that remark really is, Sara knows well. "You know, Seung Gil, you're an asshole. Talk to us when you come down off the quaaludes, and find someone else to take you home." She snaps, dragging Mila out before Seung Gil can even move to stand up. 

The door closes and for a while, everything is quiet. Seung Gil can't say he isn't used to that. The silence.

***

Otabek's hands are gentle as they comb through matted strands of light hair. His expression is focused, Yuri notices, and he takes a moment to memorize the tenseness in his jaw, the serious glint in his dark eyes, the way his teeth gnaw at his lower lip. "Stop looking at me." Otabek orders once he realizes, glancing down at him before pulling his hands away. "All done. If you puke again, your hair's all up so you won't get it all gross." He pats the top of his head, giving a nod of approval. 

Yuri's fingers move up, fingers gently brushing it. "Did you... braid it?" He asks.

"I have sisters." He waves a hand dismissively. "Shut up and drink your water. Once tomorrow morning rolls around, I'm not taking care of you anymore." He stands up off the couch.

"You talk down to me a lot, you know." Yuri grunts, looking up at him. "Acting like you're so smart. How old are you anyway?"

"Older than _you_." Otabek chuckles humorlessly. "Eighteen. But what does that matter?"

Yuri laughs mockingly, kicking at his thigh gently. "What does that matter?" He repeats. "You're awfully quick to bitch about how young I am but you're barely an older than me, dick."

Otabek is about to tell him off, he can tell by that stern expression, but before he can even get a word out, the door opens. Standing in the doorway are Viktor and the group's manager, hands intertwined. "Otabek, Yuuri and I brought home pizza. It has mushrooms, but you can just pick those off." Viktor announces, striding in and practically dragging the man with him. The two pause upon noticing someone else in the room with them and the manager, who he assumes shares his name, tilts his head to the side. "Who's this?" Viktor asks, gesturing towards him. 

"Drunk kid I picked up from the club. Making sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit." Otabek responds. "This is Yuri. Other Yuri. Yuri the second. Whatever you guys want to call him. Take him off my hands, please." Otabek jokes, though the serious expression doesn't really make it seem that way.

Yuri bites his lip, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I didn't ask to come here, you know. Don't bitch about having to take care of me when I didn't fucking ask you to." He snaps, not bothering to exchange pleasantries with the two strangers in front of them.

Viktor chuckles softly, wandering over and offering a hand to him. "Well, hello, other Yuri. This is my fiancee and our manager, Yuuri. And I'm Viktor, and that's Otabek."

"...I know Otabek. I came here with Otabek." 

"Right."

Yuuri sighs, tugging at Viktor's hand. "You'll have to excuse him, I just watched him slam half a bottle of Jack at the liquor store since he didn't want to pay for it. Needless to say, I'll have to remind him in the morning that he is now banned from said liquor store." Yuuri says, pushing the other drunk man in the room to sit next to Yuri on the couch.

The silence that ensues is awkward, as Yuri is still fuming over Otabek's comment though it was meant as a joke, and Viktor is slowly leaning far enough to fall onto the carpet. He jumps upon feeling Otabek's hand rest on his shoulder. Dark eyes meet green ones and silently, they reconcile. Yuri reaches for his water again, his weak attempt at offering an olive branch. It obviously satisfies Otabek, as he gives him the closest thing to a smile Yuri's seen from him. Really it's just a pressing together of lips, but it's enough. "I'm just going to go home now." He stands on wobbly legs, disregarding how Otabek reaches forward to catch him should he fall. He slaps at his hand, but Otabek just shrugs and bends down.

Before Yuri can even register what's happening, the world is upside down and his face is buried in Otabek's lower back. "Hey!" He yells, pounding on him. "Put me down, I can walk." 

"I know you can, but I didn't want to take any risks. You're staying here, kiddo."

"Stop fucking calling me that." Yuri yells, flinching as Otabek tightens his grip. 

"I'm going to put this brat to bed. I'll be back out for pizza." Otabek deadpans, nudging the door open with his foot and depositing the boy on the bed. The bassist turns to leave, but finds himself being pulled down with wiry arms. Yuri certainly is stronger than he looks, and he only realizes once he's underneath him, pressed against his own mattress. It's quiet for a while, the only other sound aside from their breathing is Viktor's faint laughter from past the door. 

Yuri squeezes Otabek's wrists. "If you leave me here, I'll throw up all over your bed." He taunts. The other doesn't bother to argue, nor does he make any motion to roll out from under him. Instead, his eyes move from his cherubic face down to his neck, spotted with hickeys from who he can only assume is that eccentric, emotional weirdo he's opened for a few times. He examines his exposed collarbones protruding from the shirt he knows the kid borrowed from Mila, the thin thighs pressed against the sides Otabek's hips to keep him there, the pale swatches of skin revealed through purposeful rips in the fabric. He's never seen someone quite like Yuri, that's for sure. Never has he seen someone so delicate-looking with a tongue that razor-sharp, at least, not on the Sunset Strip. He's gotten used to seeing fake smiles that don't reach sunken eyes with blown-out pupils, mere kids like Seung Gil, Mila, and Sara who have all thrown their lives away in exchange for validation and anything that will help them not to feel. That isn't Yuri. 

If he's ice, Yuri is fire. He had been the same way, once. 

"I won't leave." He promises, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. He reaches up, giving his cheek a gentle pat. "Get off of me, Yuri. It's not good for you to be messing around like that while your stomach is sensitive. Lay down." 

Much to his surprise, the blonde rolls off and curls up next to him. Otabek gently reaches over, tugging the blanket over him and making sure his whole body is covered. "You'll be okay." He murmurs, gazing down at Yuri. "Tomorrow morning I'll get you home. Hopefully that'll be the last time I see you around." 

Yuri lets out an airy giggle, his eyes closing. "You'll see me again. I think you just want to control me." 

"You know," Otabek pokes his side, watching Yuri flinch. "You're right. You'd be the first thing I'd have control over in years, if you would shut up and listen." 

"I'll never shut up and listen." 

An odd wave of relief washes over him. "Stubborn little shit." He speaks, flicking Yuri's forehead gently before he moves to lay down next to him. "Sleep now. Your annoying voice is giving me a damn headache." He doesn't mean it. If he had his way, if Yuri wasn't so drunk, he'd ask about his story. Where he's from, how he likes his eggs just for tomorrow when he's feeling like death. He'd listen to that bouncy-sounding laugh and the slight accent he has that sounds like home. Out of curiosity, of course. Not because he cares. Not because he likes it. Well... he assumes he doesn't.

For once, Yuri does what he's told. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been taking forever with these! Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!


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